This choice: Yes--Swap Frank for Gordon now! • Go Back...Chapter #74The Two Faces of Chelsea Cooper by: Seuzz   "Perfect disguises," Frank says. "Isn't that what we want?"
"Absolutely!" You clap your hands. This is just so perfect. "I'll get Gordon out here for you, Frank—"
"I thought we were keeping things on a professional level," Joe says in a sly voice. "How are you going to keep things 'professional' with my brother if you're boffing him on a regular basis?"
"Well, who says we're going to—?" You pull up hard, for you glimpse Frank staring at you over Joe's shoulder. It's an even gaze, communicating nothing. But it communicates enough. What were you promising him just before Joe showed up?
You could kick Joe in the balls for catching you in that little contradiction.
But it's not like a contradiction could ever trip up Chelsea Cooper.
"We will keep things on a professional basis," you say in a much cooler tone. "And all three of us will keep them on a professional basis while being totally in character."
Joe looks very mirthful.
But you ignore him as you take out your phone and return your boyfriend's call. "Pookie," you coo. "You called? What's up?" As if you didn't know.
"Nothing," says Gordon Black, sounding grumpy as usual. "Just, you know, wanted to hear the sound of your voice."
"Oh, that's so sweet!" In fact, you've got him well-trained to call in every couple of hours. If you go too long without hearing from him, your manner turns very frigid, and your tongue acquires a sharp barb. Sharper.
"You know, I was just thinking about you," you continue. "You'll never guess where I am."
"Up at the school?" His voice acquires some little interest.
"Tch! No! But I can guess what you're thinking about," you giggle. His query at least tells you he's not up in the fuck room, drinking beers with his stupid jock friends. "Tell me where you are, and I'll tell you where— Oh, never mind that. I'm at Jonathan Straussler's house! You know Jonathan, he plays basketball for—"
"I know who Straussler is." Gordon's voice now becomes tinged with suspicion. "What are you doing at his place?"
"It's amazing out here, Gordon! It's like this amazing castle, like they just picked it up— And it's got stained glass windows, and a pipe organ—!" You cover the phone with your hand. "This place has a pipe organ, doesn't it?" you ask Joe in a low voice. He nods. You return to Gordon: "And I know you don't care about that, but I think it's neat. And they've got this game room— Omigod Gordon, you could have so much fun over here, you and Steve and—"
"Why would I want to hang out at Straussler's place?'
"I'm telling you, because he's got all this— There's a tennis court, and an outdoor and an indoor pool—"
"But why are you getting a special tour?"
"Don't you think I'm special, Gordon?"
"Of course, baby," he says, backing off. "I just wanna know why you suddenly got an invite from—"
"Didn't I tell you? Oh, but that's what makes it so great." You hop up and down excitedly, and Frank and Joe roll their eyes in unison. "Jonathan called me out because he wants us all to be friends! Like, you and me and him and his friends at Eastman. I know you've got that stupid rivalry thing going—"
"What's so stupid about wanting to paste their pansy asses to—?"
"Nothing, pookie. But it's like— I've seen you and Steve when you play against each other. I mean, my God, sometimes I think you two are going to kill each other! But you're still friends."
"Steve-o doesn't invite you over to his place—"
"We're going to have a party out here, Gordon," you say, and drop your voice to let him know he's on notice. "That's why Jonathan called me, because he knows that I'm the one who should be organizing it on our end. Jonathan may be a blonde like me, but he isn't an airhead like— Like Maria."
Joe snerks so hard that snot flies out his nose.
"So what needs organizing?"
"A party, Gordon." You can't believe how stupid he can be. "I know you and Steve like to just sling potato chips and pizza over your dirty jockstraps up in the gym loft. But this place is like a castle," you whine. "If we're going to have a party it has to be really nice, and that takes planning! I'm going to help set it up and figure out who to invite from Westside. There's going to be dozens, maybe even hundreds of people here! The whole idea is to break the ice between the schools, so we can be friendly rivals."
"Does that include the Eastman cheerleading squad?"
"Well, let's not get carried away. The point is that I want you to come out here and look around and meet Jonathan."
"Why? If you're the one organizing things—"
"Because I'm asking you to come out here, Gordon. Are you coming or not?"
"Okay," he says in a small voice.
You give him the address. "Oh, you'll see, pookie! You and Jonathan are going to start hanging out and be best friends. Like brothers, even!" Joe—still in Jonathan's face—smirks at Frank, who remains stone-faced. "And we'll come out here with our friends and sit around the pool and play tennis and—! Oh, I can't wait! Hurry over, baby!
"Well, he's on his way over, the dumb ox, in case you couldn't tell," you sniff as you tap the phone off. "God, he can be so pig-headed sometimes." You turn violently on Frank. "So you watch yourself when we finally get his face onto you," you snarl. "He's got problems, you'll see, but that's no excuse for the kind of shit I have to put up with from him. Oh, I could strangle him sometimes."
"Is Gordon into that kind of thing?" Joe asks.
"Shut up."
* * * * *
Truculent as ever, Gordon takes his sweet time showing up, and you tamp down your frustration as you wait out front. His classic VW Bug finally stutters up after nearly forty minutes, and you suppress a sniff as he climbs out in wrinkled flannel shorts and a dirty sleeveless t-shirt. So much less classy than Jonathan, who's in khakis and a nice shirt. Gordon ignores you and his host, though, and casts a slightly fearful eye over the façade of the Straussler "castle."
You bound up and squeeze him. "You know Jonathan, right?" You cast a twinkling glance between the boys.
"Straussler," Gordon says. Jonathan smiles thinly and replies, "Black."
"So wait'll you see this place," you gush. "Oh, but I should shut up. Jonathan can tell you all about it."
But you can't stifle yourself for long. It's one thing to have seen the Straussler house with your own eyes; it's another to see it through Chelsea's, and despite yourself you cry out over almost every detail. Especially the curtains. Oh my God, when you were Will Prescott you had no idea that curtains could be so thrilling!
Impatience gradually overwhelms you, though, for Jonathan seems intent on showing every single corner and crevice. "The ballroom," you tell him. "Show Gordon the ballroom! You'll never believe, honey. That's where we'll have most of the stuff set up. There's room for everybody, and your eyes will just pop when you see it."
"There's a lot to see," Gordon allows.
"Ballroom's the highlight," Jonathan says. "I'm saving it for last."
"Are we gonna look at every room?" Gordon asks, sounding a little aghast.
"Your girlfriend's having a lot of fun looking over it again," Jonathan says. "Or maybe I'm just having fun showing it to her. I don't want the tour to end."
"Jonathan, you're being mean!"
"Alright!" he relents with a laugh.
You hug Gordon more tightly as you walk along, and kiss him on the shoulder.
But he's not impressed, you can tell, when you finally enter the ballroom. He just looks around, then jumps a little when Frank strides out of a dark corner. "You know Frank Durras, from my school," Jonathan says.
"Nice to see you," Gordon says with lukewarm enthusiasm.
"Nice to be you," Frank replies in a similar tone.
You feel rather than see Gordon do a double take. Then he's jerked violently from your embrace and hurled to the floor. An invisible force drags him over to the sigil and nails him in place. He's too surprised to shout. "I got the door," Jonathan calls as he locks it. "Chelsea, you got the rest of the stuff?"
"Boy, we're not wasting time, are we?" you laugh. "Finally." From a nearby table you pick up the supplies for the transference.
Gordon eyes you wildly as you kneel beside him, setting items in place. "Chelsea! What's—? I can't move!"
"I know, sweetie," you sigh. "That's just Frank. It'll be fine, you'll see. Well, someone will see that it's fine after we're done. But he'll be you when he sees it's fine, and that's what counts. For us, anyway. And I guess you heard that 'someone' will be Frank. He'll make it better for you, you'll see. He'll be able to handle your dad, for a start."
"Chelsea!" Gordon's voice is a shriek. "What are you talking about?"
"Shh, sweetie. I'm concentrating." You cover his mouth with yours—a final kiss. "That's the best I can do for you." You stand up, and gaze at him complacently as he gazes with mounting terror back at you.
Jonathan sidles up close. "So he's for Frank. Not to sound impatient, but who's for me?"
Maria, you almost blurt out as you raise your hands to perform the first step in the spell. It would be the perfect hiding spot for a brainiac like Joe. But you hesitate. Maybe you should leave him as Jonathan for the time being, and get acquainted with Glundandra before making that decision.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author